Reap the Whirlwind
by Quixocalypse
Summary: Cybertronian politics take a back seat for the first time in thousands of years, when both side's leaders are captured and forced into the slavery of another species - as none other than gladiators in an interplanetary arena. In order to survive Megatron may find himself relying on an ally long since forsaken, and Optimus on the advice of his greatest enemy.
1. Chapter 1

The cells felt more like coffins than prisons – in size, shape, _and _likelihood of survival. This single corridor was host to dozens of them, a gleaming white stretch of walls lined with containment field doors. Their shimmering surfaces were only transparent in one direction, inward, so that one could casually observe each captive on a stroll, while those inside the cells could only see yet another blank wall.

A bit maddening, perhaps, but most of their acquisitions were kept in stasis when they didn't need to be observed. It was processing time, which meant that stock needed to sorted and sold off to appropriate buyers. Usually that would require a lot of careful marketing and sales pitches, but this one was going to be easy. It was a very particular catch for a very particular buyer, and the terms had been set before the targets were ever picked up.

Trafficking was a Collective specialty, but Cybertronians were a well known liability, and few wanted to dip their hands in that particular pot just for the sake of it. A public sale would have been more bother than it was worth, but as a mercenary operation it was a fast paycheck and a chance to prove one's mettle for the future.

This was going to be an in and out operation, and the Collective sales representative's stride was confident as she led the client towards the big cages. Most of the cells in this area had to be custom fit for some reason or another, and the ceiling stretched upwards over fifty feet for the tallest of them. The containment fields here cut particularly striking views of the various beings and beasts held within.

This one was hard to miss.

The Cybertronian was large even by its species' standards, standing nearly forty feet tall and covered in thick, durable plating in shades of red and blue. The transforming abilities of its kind made them a particular threat, and especially hard to capture, and so that had been kept in mind with its holding cell. Its arms were bound in heavy shackles that would compress its panels enough to render shifting impossible. Those were currently locked into a waist height pillar that branched outward into the cell walls and also pinned its feet in place, metal bands locking its tires and gripping all the way up to its knees.

Its eyes were closed – perhaps in its restorative state. The sales representative's status documents said that it had been muzzled after refusing to remain silent when told.

The representative approached the wall that lined the window, tapping a code into its near imperceptible interface with a specialized glove. The transparency of the containment field switched so that it could be seen through both ways, abruptly exposing the Cybertronian to the world outside.

She was just about to administer a small shock to wake it up when it opened its eyes unbidden, indicating that it had likely not actually been unconscious in the first place. The blue light of its optics were sharp with restrained anger, immediately focusing on the two beings outside its cage.

That was the only window into its rebellious nature, with it silenced and near immobilized, but the tendency had been noted. Even now, it strained near imperceptibly against the metal pillar binding it, testing the limits of its hold. A threat, to be sure.

The client was a Nebulan in a full suit of body armor, making any of its more personal characteristics ambiguous. The Collective representative was unconcerned. Everything was already finished in the books, anyway. All the client needed to do was confirm the identities of the acquisitions, and then settle on any additional purchases.

The Nebulan raised the scanner imbedded in their arm, analyzing the energy signature of the Cybertronian's spark. In the meantime, the representative tapped in another command to the interface, temporarily relieving the Cybertronian of its muzzle, which pulled back into nodes set at the sides of its helm.

It vented a harsh burst of air, releasing a small cloud of exhaust from its mouth as its internal engines growled. It did not immediately speak, however. Apparently it had learned its lesson. For now.

"Designation?" the representative asked, tapping her datapad. She already knew the answer, obviously. It was a completely pointless question. It was also an excellent way to test compliance.

"Optimus Prime," it replied, after a delay. The glare of its optics intensified, moving between the Nebulan and the representative. The Nebulan said nothing, focusing instead on its scanner.

"Optimus Prime," the representative repeated, satisfied. "Your custody is being purchased by an outside party. You will be transferred within the cycle. Full compliance is expected."

"A sentient being cannot be _purchased_," it growled, straining more obviously against its bonds.

"You have been apprehended under the jurisdiction of our sector."

"Interplanetary law-"

"The Cybertronian species has no protection under the Galactic Council. We have followed our own code to the letter, and you have no right to demand further justification."

The Cybertronian pushed forward as far as it could go, an edge of desperation in its words.

"I have broken no law!"

"That's debatable," the Nebulan said, suddenly present after a long period of silence. They lowered their scanner, apparently content with the results. They turned to the representative. "We'll take the set."

"Excellent," the representative said, reactivating the muzzle just as the Cybertronian was about to object, leaving them with nothing but a pained grunt. The representative was relieved that this one would no longer be her problem.

Before she could hear any more complaining, she reset the containment field back to one way viewing capacity, closing out the Cybertronian's sight of them as it struggled uselessly inside. She gestured for the client to follow with one of her exceptionally long fingers.

"Now, to discuss the others..."


	2. Chapter 2

Optimus didn't fight it for long after that. He already knew that it would be a waste of energy. He had been imprisoned on this vessel for a length of time measuring in weeks already, and he had made no shortage of attempts at escape, but their containment of him was too cautious; they had known fully what to expect. It felt as if he had no cards in his hand that they did not already know about, and it left his hours filled with dark and listless thoughts.

The isolation of it was harsh, even for him, but it was far from his chief concern. He had lived for thousands of years already, and had faced situations as dire as this. But at least those had taken place in a context that he understood.

He knew that he was a prisoner, but he did not fully understand his captors' motives. He knew that they felt justified, but he did not know what was ultimately intended for him, beyond the theft of all his freedoms and day after day of humiliation.

He did not consider himself better than any other life form, but he had never before been made to feel so small.

In a metaphorical sense, at least.

His joints ached from immobility, the minor adjustments he could make to his stance doing nothing to ease his pain. The metal encasing his arms and legs would not shift, leaving him feeling more like a tired statue than an Autobot soldier. It was wearing on him, physically and mentally.

More than anything he was worried. Worried for his comrades and what would become of them in his absence, if they had not been taken the same way he had. He was more angry about being taken from his duties than he was about being imprisoned, even though he felt that this cruelty was unacceptable in any circumstance.

His tanks turned at the idea of the words the alien at his cell had used. 'The set', they had said. Did that mean that they had captured his fellow Autobots along with him? There was a flickering feeling of hope at the idea of being able to see them again, though he knew it wasn't worth it, not if it meant that they too would be subjected to this.

But he felt so very alone.

After several hours they returned for him, as promised. Optimus had no expectations of whether this transfer of 'custody' would prove better or worse than his current situation, but he was starting to think that any change from the claustrophobic four walls of his cell would be preferable.

His optics focused as the containment field abruptly fell away, revealing a group of 'escorts' wearing full protective exoskeletons and wielding the chains that would be required to move him. With a flood of relief, he felt his restraints begin to pull away, freeing his legs and leaving his shackles able to move from place. They were quick to replace that constraint with the chains, however, latching them to the ring that bound his upper arms and chest.

They yanked him out of his cell, and his numbed legs stumbled, causing him to fall down to his knees. They attached more chains until there was a crew of four guiding him – each being was around ten feet tall and surprisingly strong with the enhancements of their exoskeletons.

Optimus glared at them, his optics flashing brightly, unable to verbally object but showing every ounce of his displeasure in his expression. He jerked a shoulder away from them, testing their ability to contain him, but the exoskeletons seemed to have their feet magnetised to the ground, leaving him unable to pull them from place.

One of them flipped a switch on the handle of their 'leash' and a powerful jolt of electricity shook his entire frame. He groaned behind his muzzle, bending forward over his shackled arms.

"Get up," one of them ordered as the electricity receded. He stared at them with hazy optics, trying to think through his rattled processor. "Do you want me to do it again?"

He vented exhaust through his pipes in a harsh snort of anger, and clumsily started trying to get to his feet. Without use of his arms it was slow and humiliating, but he could see no purpose in resisting further now. As hard as it was to swallow, if he was going to find a chance to escape, he would need to wait for it.

He allowed himself to be pulled along, his legs creaking with stiffness. They had only just left the hall of various prisons when they were joined by another party of escorts, hauling a surprisingly similar prisoner.

Optimus's spark flared with shock and disgust. His optics narrowed, engines growling in his chest and air venting from his pipes with faint puffs of smoke.

Megatron, similarly bound and wearing an expression of just barely contained fury, hissed out a harsh laugh.

"Optimus!" he said, baring his fangs in a vicious sneer. He was, notably, not muzzled. "It would seem that you have been having trouble appealling to your new audience!"

Optimus really would have liked to retort to that, but the muzzle kept him silent. Humiliation bled through his spark once again. His engines growled more loudly, his upset distracting him from keeping pace. One of his escorts gave him a vicious tug, bringing him stumbling forward and doing nothing for his limited dignity.

Megatron laughed more loudly.

"Did you find his preaching as tiresome as I have?" Megatron mused to the escorts, grinning wickedly. They did not seem especially interested in what he had to say, but he kept going anyway. "Perhaps we have more in common than I thought..."

They were being led into a cargo hanger, filled with docked ships and aliens of all shapes and sized. This, presumably, was where they were be transported to their new prison. Optimus found himself searching the area, looking for any spark of an idea or hope that could lead to him somehow getting free of this. Megatron continued talking, unbidden.

"Being a Prime, it makes him a touch... simple, you could say." Optimus cut him a glare that could have seared metal, but Megatron ignored him. "He lacks the capacity to understand circumstances such as this."

"Keep quiet," one of the escorts finally snapped. "Unless you want one, too."

Megatron pulled back his lips in a flash of knife-sharp fangs.

"I, however," he said, ignoring his escort. "_I _understand the games of your kind all too well."

The escort behind him seemed about ready to give him a thrashing, when Megatron took their distraction to his advantage. He wrenched against the chain with a sudden burst of terrible strength, so violent that it managed to pull their suit's magnetic grip clean from the floor, dragging them into range of the warlord's cloven feet.

Megatron crushed the escort brutally under foot, to the sound of crunching metal and bone. Bodily fluids in shades of yellow and green squelched onto the floor, staining the unpainted silver of Megatron's leg.

The other escorts reacted quickly. All three of them activated their switches simultaneously, sending Megatron down to his knees in an overpowering strike of electricity through his body. It lasted at least a minute until he was released from that punishment, but when he was, Megatron's only reaction was a sneer.

Optimus's optics were wide.

"Consider this your first taste of my wrath," Megatron said, and endured the pain that followed with barely a sound.


End file.
